


i'll tell you my sins (you can sharpen your knife)

by Kay_Jay_Dee



Category: Black Sails
Genre: (the childhood sexual abuse is not between Vane and the OMC), BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blowjobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Charles Vane is a better dom than you would expect, Charles Vane is a terrible dom, Charles Vane never googled good BDSM etiquette, Childhood Sexual Abuse, D/s, Dominance, Flogging, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Sexual Abuse, Punishment, Spanking, Submission, Total Power Exchange, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay_Jay_Dee/pseuds/Kay_Jay_Dee
Summary: The men notice, of course. They don’t guess the details; Laurie would be thrown off the crew if they did, if they knew he was lusting after the captain like one of Mrs. Mapleton’s whores. But they notice his loyalty, his willingness to follow Vane’s every command twice as fast as anyone else. They tease, but it’s good-natured; they like Laurie well enough, even though some are still sceptical about whether he’s earned his place on the crew. They call him Vane’s puppy dog, whistle for him mockingly. Laurie takes it. He keeps his head down and his mouth shut and he strokes himself at night thinking of Vane keeping him on his hands and knees on the floor like a dog.*Or, Laurie never planned to become a pirate. He never planned to join Charles Vane's crew. He certainly never planned to get on his knees for him.But he can't bring himself to regret it.*Or, I couldn't find any fics about Vane face-fucking a pretty boy who's desperate to be on his knees for him, so I had to write it myself.
Relationships: Background Charles Vane/Eleanor Guthrie, Charles Vane/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The self-indulgent id fic of my literal dreams. Mind the tags on this one -- it's going to be a total power exchange BDSM fic that is entirely based on fantasy and not at all about safe, sane, consensual, communicative BDSM. This fic is not meant to represent an actual BDSM relationship, nor is it meant to be a guideline for one. (But god, is it fun to fantasise about.) This will include a punishment dynamic.
> 
> This fic also contains the past sexual abuse of a minor character. There is a scene where a character is triggered by memories of their past sexual abuse. This is not meant to be an accurate depiction of dealing with trauma.
> 
> Many thanks to [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf) to cheering me on when I wrote to her screaming about morally dubious pirate porn I wanted to write, even though she isn't in this fandom. Love you <3

Laurie’s a good shot. But right now, hiding below deck with a pistol shaking in his hands, he doesn’t feel like one.

He can hear noises from above, shouting and gunshots and the thump of bodies hitting the deck. Pressed against the wall beside him, Mr. Hammond is muttering something under his breath. A prayer, maybe.

Mr. Hammond has been Laurie’s tutor for five years, since Laurie was twelve years old. He’s an intelligent, soft-spoken man with big hands. He speaks four language and he started touching Laurie when Laurie was fourteen.

Mr. Hammond’s the one who grabbed Laurie and dragged him to the captain’s quarters when the black flag was spotted on the horizon. He’s sweating. Laurie grips the pistol tighter and thinks of his mother, the excitement on her face when she’d talked about this trip. “Travelling to the Americas with Mr. Hammond, _what_ an adventure!”

Laurie had never told her about what Mr. Hammond did to him. She would have told his father and his father really didn't need another reason to find him disappointing.

He’s scared, of course he is. His hands are sweaty and trembling so hard he can’t aim. But what he _hates_ is that he will die side by side with Mr. Hammond. With Mr. Hammond and his clammy hands and his soft purring voice.

Laurie can hear footsteps coming down the passageway. He tightens his grip on the pistol. Mr. Hammond grabs his arm and squeezes. Laurie flinches away, right as the door is kicked open.

Two of the men that enter the room look like they could twist Laurie’s head off his shoulders without breaking a sweat, but the third looks even less like a pirate than Laurie does. He’s tall, skinny, and dressed in a sky-blue coat, which is astonishingly blood-free. He levels a pistol at Mr. Hammond and Laurie squeezes his eyes shut.

“His father’s rich!”

It’s the fastest Laurie has ever heard Mr. Hammond speak. The dandy pirate raises an eyebrow and Mr. Hammond continues, his words falling over each other. “You can ransom him. Keep me alive and I’ll tell you who his father is.” He grabs Laurie’s arm and shoves him towards the pirates, touching him with the same hands that have been creeping over his skin for the last three years. “Do whatever you want with him, anything, I won’t breathe a word. I—”

Laurie shoots him in the head. A spray of hot blood splatters his face, but he does his best not to flinch. He looks at the pirate and he tries not to let his breathing shudder and he says, “I would like—" Blood trickles down his forehead and into his eye. He squeezes it shut and keeps talking. "I think I would like to join your crew.”

* * * 

Charles Vane is the most terrifying man Laurie has ever met. He’s covered in blood the first time Laurie sees him, a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other, with no time for the stray boy with an odd request. He snarls at the dandy, Jack, to take care of it. He pays no attention to Laurie after that, which Laurie is grateful for. He doesn’t need those eyes or that sword turned his way.

Laurie works hard, pays attention, and learns fast. He keeps his head down and stays out of the way. He got lucky, he knows that. Inordinately lucky that they didn’t just kill him on the spot. He knows that the more useful he is, the more likely they are to keep him around.

He has nightmares. He’s had dreams of Mr. Hammond for years, but they’re different now. They’re bloodier, more violent. Mr. Hammond’s mouth on his cock, pinning Laurie to his chair with strong hands on his thighs, and then a bullet hole appears in the centre of his forehead and blood explodes everywhere. Mr. Hammond touching him with blood-covered hands, leaving red streaks all over Laurie’s skin. Mr. Hammond forcing kisses on him while blood pours in waterfalls over his face.

He dreams quietly, which is a mercy when sharing sleeping quarters with at least fifty other men. He wakes with a gasp and no more, not even the hint of a scream on his lips, though he’s drenched in sweat. When he’s still disoriented with sleep, it feels like blood.

He can’t sleep after those dreams, so he usually goes above deck and stands with his elbows braced on the thick wooden railing. He watches the water rush by, breathes in cool air that smells like salt.

He sees Captain Vane on one of these nights. He’s standing near the bow, staring out to sea while his long hair whips around his face. Moonlight outlines his sharp features and Laurie touches his own face, brushing his cheekbones with just his fingertips.

He’s never talked to the captain and he doesn’t intend to start bothering him now. He turns to go back below deck, but he only takes a few steps before a hand lands on his shoulder and turns him back around.

Laurie finds himself looking right into the piercing blue eyes of Captain Vane.

“You’re the one who didn’t want to be ransomed,” Vane says. Laurie’s heard his voice before, shouting orders and swearing, but never directed at him, never so close. It’s more of a growl when he isn’t yelling, low and raspy.

“Does anyone?” Laurie says before he can stop himself. He ducks his head, but Vane gives a short bark of laughter. “My father wouldn’t have paid,” Laurie says quietly. He knew it the moment Mr. Hammond made the suggestion. Laurie has two older brothers to inherit the family business; his father wouldn’t have paid a single shilling to recover the bookish family disappointment.

Vane gives him a firm pat on the cheek; it’s almost, but not quite, a slap. “No one here’s got time for a sob story,” he says. “Go back to bed, boy.”

Laurie obeys. For the rest of the night, he sleeps without any more nightmares.

* * * 

Laurie knows, logically, that Vane didn’t save him from Mr. Hammond. He knows that Vane would have killed him as soon as he saw him, that the only reason he’s alive is because Jack listens for opportunities. Vane shoots first, asks questions never, and doesn’t bother with regrets.

But.

He listens to Vane call orders as they unload at Nassau. Watches him stride up and down the beach. Feels his breath catch when Vane lifts a crate and his biceps flex.

If it wasn’t for him, Laurie would still be sharing a cabin with Mr. Hammond.

* * * 

Laurie doesn’t think much of Eleanor Guthrie.

He _admires_ her, of course. Respects what she’s built here and her no-nonsense way of keeping those around her in line. She doesn’t take any shit and Laurie kind of wishes he had that skill. She’s an impressive woman, smart and beautiful and ambitious.

Laurie _hates_ her.

He hates the way Vane looks at her. He hates the way his voice softens ever-so-slightly when he speaks to her. He hates the way his eyes _burn_ when he looks at her.

Laurie thinks about that look sometimes, lying in his tent and stroking his hand rapidly up and down his cock, doing his best to be quiet. He imagines Vane staring at him that way, hearing his voice growl at the back of his throat. Laurie has to bite down on his fist to keep from groaning, “ _Captain_ ” when he comes.

Eleanor Guthrie gets to see that look whenever she wants. She gets to feel the captain’s cock stretching her open—and Laurie just knows that Vane’s cock is so deliciously thick. He’s in love with her and she doesn’t even know how lucky she is.

* * * 

The men notice, of course. They don’t guess the details; Laurie would be thrown off the crew if they did, if they knew he was lusting after the captain like one of Mrs. Mapleton’s whores. But they notice his loyalty, his willingness to follow Vane’s every command twice as fast as anyone else. They tease, but it’s good-natured; they like Laurie well enough, even though some are still sceptical about whether he’s earned his place on the crew. They call him Vane’s puppy dog, whistle for him mockingly. Laurie takes it. He keeps his head down and his mouth shut and he jerks off at night thinking of Vane keeping him on his hands and knees on the floor like a dog.

* * * 

Everyone on the _Ranger’s_ crew knows when Vane and Eleanor have had a blow-up fight. Firstly because Nassau loves its gossip. Secondly because it’s how you stay alive. If the captain’s fighting with Eleanor, you stay the fuck out of his way.

Laurie knows that.

He shouldn’t be here. He should know better. He does know better. But here he is, at the entrance to the captain’s tent, ready to walk in and probably get shot for his troubles.

He pushes the heavy canvas to the side and walks in anyway.

“Captain?” he says.

It takes him a moment to see Vane in the dimly-lit tent. But he’s there, leaning back in a chair, empty bottles littering the floor nearby. He has a bottle of rum in hand and he looks at Laurie with blurry eyes.

“The fuck d’you want?” he slurs.

Laurie can still turn back. He can say, _Nothing, Captain_ and run. Instead, he gingerly steps further into the tent

“I thought I could…” His throat is so so dry. He swallows, but he still doesn’t have the words to describe that madness that has come over him.

So instead, he sinks to his knees in front of Vane. With one hand, he grips Vane’s thigh, feeling hard muscle flex and move under his fingers. “I thought I could,” he repeats.

He expects to be slapped or shot or thrown out on his ass. Instead, Vane just looks down at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Orange lamplight flickers over him, throwing some parts of his face into shadow and others into sharp relief. Laurie doesn’t dare move, kneeling at his captain’s feet. He can barely breathe.

Vane doesn’t say yes. He doesn’t nod or even really acknowledge Laurie. But he tips his head back, upends the bottle of rum into his mouth, and spreads his legs wider.

Laurie fumbles with the buttons on Vane’s pants. His fingers feel thick and clumsy, but he finally pulls Vane’s cock out. He isn’t hard and Laurie feels a stab of disappointment. But even soft, Vane’s cock is thick and heavy in Laurie’s hand. Laurie strokes it slowly, letting it stiffen in his grip before he lowers his mouth to it. He wraps his lips around the head of Vane’s cock, pressing his tongue against the underside. Vane tastes a little like salt and a lot like sweat. Laurie knows he should find it disgusting, but instead, it’s heady.

Laurie wants to take his time, to taste every inch of his captain and lavish attention on him. But somehow, he doesn’t think Vane is a slow and sensual kind of man. So he slides his lips down Vane’s cock, taking as much of it in his mouth as possible. He’s only made it down a few inches before he starts gagging. He pulls back, choking, his mouth flooding with saliva. He thinks he hears Vane laugh.

Fingers slide through his hair and Vane cups the back of Laurie’s head. “Haven’t done this before?” he says. Laurie doesn’t know if the right answer is yes or no, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

He takes it slower this time, easing down until the head of Vane’s cock bumps against the back of his throat. He breathes steadily through his nose, concentrating hard on not letting his throat convulse. Vane’s fingers are surprisingly gentle in his hair, but when he thrusts into Laurie’s mouth, Laurie gags again.

A hot rush of shame sweeps over him. He came here tonight to prove that he could be useful, to prove that he could be good. He isn’t here to embarrass himself in front of his captain.

Thinking fast, he spits on his hand and wraps it around the base of Vane’s cock. When he lowers his mouth onto Vane’s cock again, his lips hit the top of his hand before Vane’s cock can go too deep.

It’s easier after that. Vane’s grip tightens on Laurie’s hair as Laurie bobs his mouth up and down on his cock. It’s sloppy and inexpert. Vane was right—Laurie hasn’t done this before. Mr. Hammond never made Laurie touch him. He’d touch Laurie, put his mouth on Laurie, occasionally make himself come. But he never made Laurie—

Laurie squeezes his eyes shut to try stop the sudden onslaught of memories. A mouth on his cock, hands sliding up his chest, come splattering on his thighs, blood splattering against his face. He pulls back from Vane’s cock with a gasp.

Vane tightens his grip on Laurie’s hair and pulls him back onto his cock. Laurie looks up at him and Vane meets his gaze dead-on. It isn’t quite the look he gives Eleanor Guthrie, but it’s enough. Laurie relaxes his jaw and doesn’t look away as Vane uses his hair to guide him up and down his cock.

Saliva spills out of Laurie’s mouth and down his chin. He’s making obscene noises as Vane shallowly fucks his mouth and his eyes are stinging with tears, but Vane’s gaze is burning and Laurie can take it. For his captain, he can take it.

Vane only looks away when he comes, shutting his eyes and tipping his head back. He twists his hand in Laurie’s hair and with a grunt, he floods Laurie’s mouth with come. It’s bitter and Laurie chokes a little, but he swallows what he can, letting the rest dribble out of his mouth.

He pulls back off Vane’s cock, inhaling deeply. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand; his lips and chin are slippery with spit and spilled come. For a moment, he rests his forehead on Vane’s thigh, catching his breath.

“Right,” Vane says. He’s looking at his bottle of rum, not at Laurie. His cock is wet and softening between his thighs. “Get out.”

Laurie scrambles to his feet and flees the tent. He rushes down the beach until he finds a spot of relative privacy, shoves his trousers down, and strokes his cock rapidly. He bites his lower lip and comes with his free hand twisted in his hair, pulling at it until his scalp burns.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Punishment! Spanking with belts! Vane being softer than he should probably be if I cared about him staying in character!
> 
> (PS. To anyone who's left a comment so far, you are my favourite person.)

They don’t talk about it. It shouldn’t surprise Laurie, because Vane isn’t the kind to talk about _anything_ , but he thought…

He doesn’t know what he thought. Vane doesn’t even _look_ at him for the next two days and Laurie walks around in a haze, expecting to be kicked off the crew at any moment.

Then one evening, Anne finds him on the beach. She keeps her distance; she always does. “Captain wants you,” she says, and walks away before Laurie can respond.

Laurie would never say this to Vane’s face, but Anne Bonny is undoubtedly the scariest person on the _Ranger_ ’s crew.

He rushes to Vane’s tent while trying to make it look like he’s _not_ rushing. He doesn’t know what any of the men—or Anne—would say if they knew, but he doesn’t particularly want to find out.

He slips into Vane’s tent and finds him with his legs spread and his trousers already undone.

Laurie pulls up short and Vane smirks. “Well?” he says. “Get to work, boy.”

Laurie can’t fall to his knees fast enough.

* * * 

Then Laurie fucks up.

They’re boarding a prize, an English merchant ship whose crew is putting up a fight. It’s nearing the end; the _Ranger_ ’s victory is secured and the English crew are now fighting more out of desperation than any actual hope.

Laurie levels his pistol at a man. The ship rolls under his feet; someone falls into him, landing on him hard from behind, and Laurie loses his balance. He squeezes the trigger as he falls and his shot goes right through Anne Bonny’s thigh.

She falls to one knee on the deck. Laurie watches in horror as a man rushes her, but Rogers steps in and buries a hatchet in the man’s skull.

Anne’s fine. She’s seen by the ship’s doctor and she’s fine. She’s pale and she’s growling at everyone and she has to lean on Jack when she walks, but she’s fine. She’s _fine_.

So why does Laurie feel bile rising in his throat every time he looks at her?

He stews in it all evening, letting the guilt fester and grow in his belly. Hours pass before most of the men are asleep and he can creep to Vane’s cabin.

Vane answers the door. He actually looks surprised to see Laurie there, but Laurie feels too sick with guilt to enjoy it. But any surprise is quickly replaced by a look of cool indifference. Vane leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

For a moment, Laurie thinks he might say no, but Vane steps aside and gestures Laurie into the room. He shuts the door and turns to face Laurie, squeezing his cock through his trousers. “Couldn’t wait until we reached land, could you?” he says. He smirks. “Greedy slut.”

“I shot Anne,” Laurie says. His voice is too loud.

Vane frowns. “What?”

“I shot her,” Laurie repeats. His voice is quieter this time, but no less frantic. “When we were taking the prize. I didn’t mean to, but I lost my footing and my aim went to shit and I—” He gulps a breath of air. “I shot her.”

Vane surveys him from across the room. “Okay,” he says. “So?”

“So I—” Laurie flounders, lost for words. “So it was _my fault_.”

Vane steps closer. “Battles are messy,” he says. “They’re chaos. Get a fucking grip and move on.” He pauses, then adds, “And don’t shoot her again.”

Laurie knows a dismissal when he hears one. Knows he’s meant to say _thank you_ and _goodnight_ and leave the room. But he can’t. He doesn’t move, standing there like his feet are rooted to the floor. Vane sighs. His hand is still on his cock, like he’s forgotten it’s there. “What do you want me to do about it?” he says. “Punish you?”

He says it sarcastically, but Laurie’s stomach unclenches at the words. He drops to his knees. “Yes,” he says. “Please. _Please_.”

Vane’s face hardens and his lips twitch into a sneer. “I’m not here for your fucking guilt trips,” he says.

“I won’t ask you again,” Laurie says. He’s talking so fast he can barely make out his own words. “Just tonight. Please, captain. Sir. Please.”

Vane is quiet for a moment that stretches on forever. Laurie’s heart hammers in his chest. If Vane says no, he’ll have to drag himself to his feet and get out of here. He’ll have to find some way to pull himself back together, entirely on his own.

There’s something broken inside Laurie. There has to be. Why else would he want nothing more right now than for this man to just _hurt_ him?

Vane slaps his hand against the top of his desk. “I’m not—fuck.” Vane spits the word. “Get up. Get on your fucking feet.”

Laurie stands. His knees are wobbling. His entire body feels hot and itchy and he wants Vane’s hands on him more than anything. Holding him down, hurting him, grounding him.

Vane grabs Laurie by the shoulders and shoves him over to the desk. Laurie stumbles and catches himself against it. He hasn’t even recovered his footing when Vane yanks his trousers down. Laurie hears a button _ping_ off into a corner of the room; he’ll have to sew a new one on later. Vane tugs his trousers down to mid-thigh, leaving Laurie’s legs trapped close together and his ass bare.

Goosebumps rise on Laurie’s skin even as his cheeks grow hot. He can hear Vane’s footsteps pacing back and forth on the wooden floor behind him. Laurie wants to peek over his shoulder, see if Vane is looking at him, but he can’t bring himself to do it. The risk of making eye contact with his captain when he’s like this, completely exposed, makes his face burn with humiliation.

It also makes his cock stir.

Vane presses a hand against Laurie’s spine and pushes him down. Laurie lowers his chest to the desk, awkwardly trying to shuffle his legs into a wider stance.

He hears the soft whisper of leather against fabric.

Then the belt hits his ass.

No warning, no warm-up, just a strap of leather landing on his skin in a hot line. Laurie yelps and Vane snaps the belt over his ass again before grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head back.

He presses a strip of fabric into Laurie’s mouth, gagging him. The callouses on his fingers catch on Laurie’s lips and for a wild moment, Laurie imagines what Vane’s lips would feel like against his.

But Vane lets go of his hair and presses Laurie’s head back down to the desk. “We don’t want the whole crew hearing your screams,” he says, and fear curls through Laurie’s stomach. For the first time, he wonders if he might be in over his head.

The belt lands on Laurie’s ass again and again. It stings, hot and burning, and Laurie gasps through the gag with each strike. The gag is soon absolutely soaked with his saliva.

The sting of the belt grows to a deep ache, somehow simultaneously duller and sharper than the original pain. The strikes land so hard that Laurie rocks against the desk with each one; he hears Vane grunt with effort each time he swings the belt.

And somehow, it’s helping. Each strike, each new flare of unbearable pain, feels like absolution. Laurie is gritting his teeth through the gag and his face is wet with sweat or tears, he isn’t sure which, and the strikes are landing too fast for him to breathe—

Then, abruptly, they stop. Vane tosses the belt to the side and its buckle clatters on the floor. He grabs Laurie’s hips and stands behind him, yanking Laurie back against him and—

Oh.

That’s Vane’s cock.

Laurie doesn’t know when Vane got his pants undone, but that is unmistakeably his cock pressed against Laurie’s ass, thick and hard and hot. He thrusts against Laurie’s ass a few times, skin on skin, then growls in impatience. He spits on his hand and uses it to slick up his cock, then thrusts against Laurie again. His cock slips between Laurie’s ass cheeks and Vane groans, deep and low in the back of his throat.

Laurie can barely breathe. Vane is sweating and it’s burning the places where Laurie’s skin has broken, but he wouldn’t move away for anything, not for love or fame or fortune.

Each of Vane’s thrusts is punctuated by a grunt. Laurie’s cock bobs, hard and neglected, its tip smearing pre-come on his belly. He isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch it. He doesn’t want to risk anything that might make Vane step away.

So he grips the desk instead, holding on so tightly that its edge digs deep grooves into his fingers. His head is swimming in this mess of sensations—the rough wet fabric in his mouth, Vane’s fingers gripping his hips tight enough to bruise, the stinging welts on his ass. He can feel his nostrils flare with each breath he takes.

Vane speeds up, his hips snapping against Laurie's ass. Laurie’s familiar enough with the signs of Vane’s impending orgasm to recognise them by now—the catch of his breath, the flexing of his fingers. He can’t taste the sudden rush of pre-come in his mouth, but he knows it’s there, spilling against his skin.

Vane groans and squeezes Laurie’s hips; hot spurts of come land on Laurie’s ass and lower back. Vane groans from between clenched teeth. “Punish you,” he says. He lets go of Laurie and steps away, then turns his face to the side and spits on the floor. “Like you’re my fucking possession.”

Laurie pulls the gag from his mouth. “I could be,” he says. He doesn’t know where the bravery to say the words is coming from. Maybe it’s because he’s still face-down over the desk and doesn’t have to look Vane in the eye. “I would be. If you wanted me, Captain. Sir.”

Time stretches on forever. The only thing Laurie can hear is Vane’s heavy breaths and the roar of his own pulse. He releases his grip on the desk, only now registering the pain in his fingers. He slowly stands up straight, rapidly-cooling come trickling down his back, and turns to face Vane. “I could be,” he repeats.

Vane sits down on his bed, heavily enough that it creaks under his weight. He gaze drops to Laurie’s still-hard cock. “Are you going to take care of that?” he says.

Is it permission? Is it a challenge? Laurie doesn’t know. He bites his lower lip and wraps his hand around his cock. He leans back against the desk so that its sharp edge digs into the welts on his ass.

He comes embarrassingly quickly, only a few quick strokes before he grits his teeth and come spills over his fist. For a moment, he stands there panting, looking like a fool with his trousers around his thighs and a handful of come. He has no choice but to wipe it on his trousers while Vane watches.

“I’ll just…” He awkwardly gestures at the door. “Go.”

“Then go,” Vane says, and the way he speaks, like he couldn’t care less, makes Laurie feel like even more of an idiot. He came here begging for punishment from a man who does not give a damn and who will never care about this as much as Laurie does.

“But,” Vane says, and there’s enough weight in the word to make Laurie turn around. “If you want to be mine, then you’ll sleep right here.”

And he points to the floor in front of his feet.

* * * 

Vane stays on the bed and Laurie turns over endlessly, trying to find a way to make the floor comfortable. Vane gave him a pillow and a thin sheet to use as a blanket, but nothing else.

Vane sleeps naked. Laurie keeps his shirt on for additional warmth. He rolls over again and presses his face into the pillow.

He could just get up and leave.

Then Vane hangs an arm over the side of the bed and cards his fingers through Laurie’s hair. All the tension leaves Laurie’s body in a sudden rush.

He doesn’t sleep much. The floor is hard and cold, and his ass hurts. But Vane leaves his hand there all night, tangled in Laurie’s curls. Every time Laurie wakes up from a fitful sleep, he presses into Vane's touch and Vane gives his curls a light tug.

If this is what it means to belong to his captain, then Laurie will sleep on the floor every single night if he has to, as long as Vane keeps touching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kayjaydee17 on Tumblr -- come say hi!


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